CHAPTER 335: FIGHTING A WOLF

SAGE

The roar of the crowd was deafening. The combat field looked almost too small for the number of people pressed against the barriers, eager, greedy for blood.

The stands were overflowing — royals in their jeweled seats, visitors from other packs, humans who had bribed their way in for a glimpse of the real show. Even some had come cloaked in glamour, pretending to be nobles from far territories. Everyone loved the smell of danger. Everyone loved a fight.

And today, I was the main attraction.

I could feel their eyes on me as I stepped into the arena, the sand warm beneath my boots, the heavy metallic scent of past fights still lingering in the air. The banners of the royal pack fluttered above the stands.

Somewhere near the center, I could see the royal box — Adam seated there, expression carved from stone, his brothers lounging beside him like this was some private amusement. Claire was there too, looking murderous in her red gown. Good. Let her seethe.

I rolled my shoulders, breathing out slowly. My pulse was steady, though my body thrummed with anticipation.

The field shimmered faintly, the faint hum of the barrier magic brushing against my skin — a warning. My power had limits here. I could feel the static of the shock field that would burn through my veins if I overstepped the allowed threshold.

The rules were clear: I couldn’t use high-level magic. No teleportation, no energy blasts, no shadow conjuring. Only what I could hide beneath my skin.

My opponent was already in the field. A werewolf. I had gotten the memo that I would be facing one today, instead of Darius, considering that the latter had already scaled the challenge last year.

He was tall — easily six foot six — with dark, braided hair and arms roped with muscle. His eyes glowed faintly gold, even though he hadn’t shifted yet. His chest was bare, covered in scars that told stories of too many victories. His smirk was one of arrogance and certainty.

"Didn’t think the showgirl had it in her to face me," he taunted, his voice carrying easily across the field. "You fight well for someone who hides behind tricks. Let’s see how long you last without your fancy magic."

I cracked my knuckles, giving him a slow smile. "You talk too much."

That earned a few laughs from the crowd. His grin tightened, the wolf in him flashing in his eyes.

A bell rang somewhere above us. The fight began.

He lunged first — a blur of motion, claws half-formed, strength pouring into the swing that could’ve shattered bone. I ducked, sliding under his arm, sweeping his legs out from under him. He hit the ground hard, but rolled back up almost instantly, feral and grinning.

Fast.

Good.

I pivoted, feinted left, then slammed my elbow into his ribs. He grunted, catching my wrist and twisting it painfully, trying to throw me off balance. I followed the motion, let it carry me, spun around him, and kicked his knee. The joint cracked. He staggered, snarling — and that’s when the shift began.

It was brutal.

His skin rippled, bones snapping, claws tearing through his hands. His face distorted into a muzzle of black fur and fangs. Within seconds, where the man had stood, a massive black wolf towered before me, larger than any I had seen. His fur glistened like oil, his eyes molten gold. His growl rolled through the stadium like thunder.

The crowd went wild.

He pounced before I could blink. I dove sideways, rolling across the sand as his claws gouged the ground where I’d been a heartbeat ago. The air vibrated with his power. He was fast — unnaturally fast for a wolf that size.

I darted forward, aiming for his flank, but he twisted midair and slammed into me. The impact drove the breath from my lungs as I flew backward, crashing into the barrier field. Pain exploded through me, followed by a sting of electricity. The shock seared down my spine, warning me.

I coughed, forcing myself up. My arms trembled slightly, but I grinned anyway.

He thought he’d won already.

"Is that all?" I called out, wiping blood from my mouth. "I thought wolves had more bite than that."

The growl that followed was pure fury.

Half man, half wolf, he charged again, but this time I was ready. I sidestepped, grabbed a handful of his fur as he passed, and slammed my knee into his jaw. He howled, snapping at me, but I twisted away, landing light on my feet.

His claws raked across my shoulder — hot, slicing pain — but I ignored it. I’d been hurt worse.

The crowd chanted his name now, drunk on violence. He laughed, gesturing that more chants be raised, shifting to his humanic shape.

The idiot. Was he that trusting of his prowess?

He shifted again, partially this time, taking the hybrid form — humanoid but still covered in dark fur, claws and teeth gleaming. He towered over me, muscles rippling, the veins in his arms pulsing with energy.

He came at me again.

This time, his strength broke through my guard. His clawed hand caught my side, throwing me several feet through the air. I hit the sand hard, tasted iron. My vision flickered.

For a heartbeat, I wanted to rest. To just close my eyes. But then I heard the crowd — chanting his name, not mine — and something inside me snapped.

No. Not today.

I pushed myself up slowly, blood dripping down my chin. My fingers curled into fists, energy thrumming faintly beneath my skin — restrained, contained, hidden. The barrier wouldn’t detect this.

He charged one last time, confident, reckless. That was his mistake.

At the last second, I sidestepped and leapt onto his back, gripping the thick fur at the base of his neck. He bucked, growling and twisting violently, trying to throw me off, but I clung tighter, fingers digging in.

My other hand reached for his eyes — magic sparking faintly under my skin, invisible to anyone watching. I pressed my fingers into the socket. He howled — a sound that ripped through the air and sent shivers down every spine in the arena.

He shifted mid-scream, body convulsing as he fell to his knees, back into human form. I didn’t give him time to recover.

I slammed my knee into his ribs once, twice — then punched him square across the jaw. He staggered, blood flying from his mouth. I hit him again, faster, sharper, until he dropped to the sand.

Silence rippled through the crowd — brief, shocked.

Then the roar came.

I stood over him, chest heaving, blood on my face, sweat glistening down my arms. The wolf lay motionless, beaten.

The announcer’s voice broke through the din. "Winner — Sage!"

The crowd erupted again, louder this time.

I raised my hand slightly, acknowledging them, though my gaze slid toward the royal box. Adam was standing now, not clapping, not smiling — just watching me, unreadable. But I could feel it, the tension in his stare, the curiosity that burned behind those cold eyes.

Claire looked like she wanted to leap over the railing and strangle me. That was satisfaction enough.

As the medics rushed in to drag the unconscious wolf away, I turned toward the exit, limping slightly but holding my head high. Every ache, every bruise felt worth it.

I’d won.